A Christmas Carol
by The Frisky Firelily
Summary: A grouchy mercenary has three visitors one Christmas Eve. Firefly take on A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. M/I, S/K, W/Z, R/J. Post-BDM AU  cuz I like our floating family whole.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: **A Christmas Carol

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine.

**A/N: **Some leftover holiday cheer was bubbling in my belly. Obviously based on A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. AU in that it is Post-BDM but I couldn't write the story without the crew whole, so our lovely pilot and preacher are present :)

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Jayne growled low under his breath. The ship was packed full of those ridiculous fairy lights, of which Kaylee seemed to have an endless supply. Walking through the metal halls when they were lit up like that was a lot like being in space, except the stars were two inches from your head and if you were any taller than 6 feet there was a strong risk of strangulation on the glowing golden strands. There was a slightly misshapen plastic tree in the dining room where Book and Inara had spent the last two days cooking. The tree had been strung with even more of those lights (seriously, where did Kaylee get the _gorram_ things?), and hung with a variety of mismatched homemade baubles. The recirculated air of the ship was filled with the delicious sent of roast vegetables, chicken, glazed ham and Christmas pudding, the rich, warm fog of garlic and onion creeping over every inch of the ship.

And he was stuck in his bunk.

It wasn't his fault the crazy girl had been grating on his last nerve lately. All day he'd heard Christmas carols hummed in that creepy voice of hers, not to mention the occasional spouts of poetry. He had found her dancing around the cargo bay to the twinkling sound of something Inara said was a sugary fairy fruit, or something like that. The Companion had been sitting with Zoe, slowly sipping some of the extra strength eggnog that Mal of all people had made, watching their 'little Christmas fairy' dance. The first mate had been sipping some tea, her pregnancy prohibiting anything more.

The pale skin and thin limbs had looked almost fitting in the warm golden glow of all those lights, but when she stopped and started saying some poetic _go se_ her didn't understand he'd made a cutting comment, leaving quickly. He couldn't say why the girl was bothering him so much, but every time he was in the same room as her his skin felt like it was on fire. It hadn't helped his mood that she'd been wearing a charcoal coloured dress that looked like it was spun out of smoke and cobwebs, one that flipped up when she pirouetted, showing off the long lean legs and pink ballet slippers on her feet, her chocolate hair loose and whipping around her shoulders as she moved.

He was willing to admit that maybe he didn't need to tease her about her attempts at cooking a Christmas cake, but the black smoke filling the kitchen combined with the strange addition of asparagus to the recipe had made it too hard to hold his tongue.

So what if he'd been riding her for the past week? Crazy girls shouldn't be disrupting life on the ship so much. It was bad enough Kaylee couldn't resist the spirit of the season, bad enough that the rest of the crew was somewhat amused by the mechanic's yuletide zeal. The addition of an overly enthusiastic crazy girl to the mix wasn't particularly pleasant. Especially not for someone who didn't find much to appreciate about Christmas spent on a ship.

If they'd been able to land of Persephone he could have gotten himself some holiday cheer in the form of a cheap whore. He'd had a great time when they were planet side two years ago – who knew Miss Lila's Ladies of the Night had a Christmas banquet as well? Ho h oho indeed. However this year Mal had made the annoying decision to remain in the Black for the holiday, possibly another irritating side effect of their survival of Miranda, an event that had created some frustratingly strong ties amongst many of the ship's members. The decision had thrilled the rest of the crew; something about keeping it a 'family' affair.

Which basically meant he was stuck in the black with an overly romantic group of idiots. Simon couldn't stop smiling when Kaylee would find an inch of the ship not yet infused with Christmas cheer, the girl immediately stuffing whatever dark corner she found with homemade baubles, lights or that itchy stuff she called tinsel. Wash was taking every opportunity to abuse the mistletoe his wife walked under. The Captain and Inara were worst of all, dropping unsubtle innuendos to one another so often that even Book knew they were sexin'. The fact that they thought they were hiding it had at least brought some amusement to an otherwise uncomfortable experience.

Not much though.

The last straw had been when the crazy girl had arrived at dinner in that get up. Jayne had no clue where she'd managed to find the short red skirt with white trim, nor the matching red top. The striped red and black stockings that came halfway up her slim thighs and the santa hat perched on her head had been the last straw. The merc had burst out into raucous laughter at the sight of the 'Christmas elf', and the girl's face had crumbled at his response. The Captain, tired of Jayne upsetting the girl, had sent the merc to his bunk, refusing to let him come out until he found some Christmas cheer.

Stuck in his bunk of Christmas Eve….Jayne huffed.

He lay down on his thin mattress, trying to ignore the way the image of the girl all decked out in short skirt and big black boots filled his mind. Stupid girl, always getting him in trouble. And the rest of the crew didn't help, treating her like something special rather than the boatful of violent crazy she actually was. He tried not to think about what her skin felt like. As sleep slowly settled over him like a warm blanket he lost the battle.

Stupid Christmas.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're going to ruin everything."

Jayne's eyes snapped open. His room was pitch black, although he could have sworn he fell asleep with his lights on. Something about this black put him on edge – it weighed on him heavily, as if keeping him in place. He managed to turn his head to the far corner of his bunk.

The young, echoing voice came from the far corner. Jayne saw the outlines of three tiny girls, girls who now walked, no…drifted, forward until they were standing by the bed. They looked, strange, almost like they were floating. Jayne rubbed his eyes to clear his head. Every single one had dark hair, large brown eyes, and long dark lashes. They were small, although it was easy to tell there was an eldest, middle, and youngest. All had the same slim, sinewy build, pale skin and delicate limbs.

He was _not_ going to think about who they looked like. No way.

The second girl rolled her eyes, making him wince in recognition.

"Time rolls forward – ongoing refusal to engage in familial intimacy is detrimental to all." Jayne scrunched his eyebrows together as she spoke. "Huh?" The youngest giggle, the soft sound echoing through the dark bunk. Jayne briefly wondered exactly what Mal would do to him if he was caught with three little girls in his bunk. Bile rose in his throat. Not good.

The youngest smiled sweetly at him and Jayne noticed for the first time that she was clutching a ragged teddy to her chest. Her voice was soft. "She means stop being a meanie." Jayne was getting sick of this weirdness.

"Look, I don't know who ya are, but iffen ya don't get outta here I'll throw ya out, _dong ma_?" The youngest girl's eyes filled with tears at his harsh tone, and Jayne felt instantly guilty. He almost reached out to hug the little one but managed to hold back, confused and annoyed by the urge to comfort the child.

The eldest, who had stayed silent up to this point, now stepped forward, neatly setting her sister behind her. Jayne recognised a protective gesture when he saw one, and felt another pang of guilt. The oldest girl didn't look a day over five, but those flashing eyes looked a little too familiar.

She mumbled something to the littlest one, Jayne thought he caught the words 'doesn't know', 'not him yet'. She turned those dark eyes back to him. "You're going to have visitors. Three. They'll show you."

Jayne rolled his eyes but played along. "Show me what?"

They began to fade in front of him, until only their little faces remained floating in the air, and even those were slowly disappearing. The three little girls all smiled those identical smiles at him, their voices now seeming to meld together as they spoke in unison, the haunting echo ringing through Jayne's ears.

"Yourself."


	3. Chapter 3

Jayne's eyes snapped open. He knew immediately where he was; back home, the dry desert air stinging his nostrils, an odd combination of freezing cold and grating sand. He wrapped his arms tighter around his body, feeling his heavy cargo jacket shift with him.

He turned when he saw movement beside him. And old man stood there and Jayne stared as he recognised his grandfather. The once powerful form was still formidable, but the years had taken a toll on his large muscles, his spine curving into a slight hunch. Still the blue eyes glittered with mirth, showing more laugh lines than Jayne remembered, the lips curling into a familiar smirk. The old man was Jayne's height, although the hunch seemed to stoop him a little, and his olive green tank and heavy cargos still protected the dangerous man from the worst of the desert weather.

Jayne couldn't help but notice he was dressed the same, although he had no idea why.

Jayne raised a brow. "An' what the _guai_ am I doin' here?" His grandfather shrugged. "Watching. Watching the past through older eyes. Yer gonna be seein' some things tonight boy, some ya ain't gonna like. Don' worry, there's gonna be guides." Jayne sighed and rolled his eyes, shrugging as the wind picked up, bringing more biting sand with it.

"An' why the hell would I need guides?" Craven Grey smirked. "Cuz yer too ruttin' foolish ta see these things fer what they really are 'less there's someone 'round ta bully ya into it." Jayne snorted, turning his eyes forward.

He looked ahead, finally noticing the tiny home he'd grown up in, the window bright with light. Far away from the town, barely more than a shoddily constructed cabin, deliberately isolated. As he approached he saw a boy huddled by a tree. He recognised the woman as his mother, albeit some years younger, a kind smile on her face. She had been beautiful once, before violence had given her that white streak through her hair, before her face had become prematurely lined with pain, before she'd turned to the drink and her spirit had gone that ugly black colour. When an older man appeared Jayne felt a sense of dread he hadn't experienced since leaving home. The man was drunk, stumbling, but that didn't stop him crossing the room and backhanding the woman.

Although no sound could be heard Jayne could remember every vile word.

"_Whore, ain't got no cash fer shiny, whyfore ya sitting by a tree?" The woman shuddered, struggling not to raise a hand to the welt developing on her cheek, pulling the small boy behind her thin body. Jayne was shivering behind his mother, wishing she would hold him, but knowing that such requests were pointless. Her voice shook, some of it fear, but Jayne knew it was mostly from how much she had been drinking. "Mr Daniels had a spare, said we could use it. Didn't spend no money, I swear."_

_The man sneered as her hands trembled, eyeing the boy glaring from behind his mother. "Whatchu lookin' at jail bait? Won't be long now til yer workin' fer yer keep. Startin' tomorrow." The woman gasped. "But it's Christmas day – can't he have one day of joy?" The man's sneer turned ugly. "Vile creature ain't even meant ta be here – any joy he gets ain't fer keepin'."_

Jayne closed his eyes at the ugly scene before him. The unwanted get of a whore had no place regretting the past, but the sight of his pretty young mother shivering as she tried to shield him from the man he was forced to call father still tugged at his heartstrings. Back then she had tried, although she never did leave. Never did decide that taking her son and herself somewhere safe was more important than the easy money and free flowing booze she could get through whoring.

Next to him his grandfather sighed. Jayne remembered the way he used to run to the well-built cabin his grandparents had occupied, finding shelter and love, a small light of happiness in an otherwise dark childhood. The old man shook his head, his eyes filled with pain. "No 'ccountin' fer taste I spose. She got herself inta the mess, an' no 'mount o' interference from us seemed ta get her out. Sometimes I wonder if she wanted it that way."

Remembering the way his mother's eyes would light up when she was handed the small wads of credits by her 'clients' Jayne couldn't help but wonder. She may not have liked the way Michael Cobb treated her son, but that didn't seem to be enough to leave, not when there was cashy money on hand. The fact that the only contribution he'd made to Jayne had been a last name was not unnoticed – blonde haired, brown eyed Michael was in no way Jayne's real father.

That helped…a little.

Craven cast thoughtful eyes at Jayne. "He was never kind, and maybe neither was she. I know she's my kin an' all, but I can't help but hate her fer what she put ya through. Come on, there's other things ta see." And with that he grasped Jayne's arm, the world melting away.

He was in town now, at Steven's Bar. The watering hole was a rank, dark place, and Jayne watched as a boy no older than twelve stepped into the room. The rest of the patrons ignored him, the boy's eyes flashing defiantly, his tall frame already beginning to fill out. His keen eyes picked out what he was looking for.

Carla Cobb was almost straddling Grayson Mires, her hooded eyelids telling young Jayne just how much she'd been drinking. He scowled as he marched forward, wrapping his arms around his mother's waist and hauling her off the man. Grayson stood, ready to argue, but Jayne turned, and even at twelve those wild blue eyes were filled with anger. He let go of his laughing mother, feeling briefly guilty when she fell to the floor. The guilt passed when Carla winked at a man at the other table, hiking her skirts up a little to show more leg. Jayne tried to leash his anger as the man approached him, and didn't wait for the ugly words he knew he would be hearing.

_Bitch's get._

_Whoreson._

_Bastard._

He swung, his backhand nowhere near as powerful as it would one day be, but still fuelled with enough temper to send the other man tumbling onto his ass. Jayne didn't wait, simply scooped up his mother, who was now protesting weakly, her intoxication making her attempts to fight weak and useless.

When he got them out of the bar and partway down the street she turned suddenly, knocking his arms away and flinging herself backwards. Her voice was filled with hatred as she seethed at her son. "Whyfore ya doin' that? You don' wanna eat this week? Ain't like no Pa o' yours is gonna be feedin' us!"

Jayne saw his younger self flinch momentarily, the movement obviously filling his mother with perverse glee before his blue eyes hardened. "I told ya – ain't no need ta be doin' that no more, I got food on the table."

Carla Cobb rolled her eyes. "What, that trash ya catch in the forest? That ain't enough, _hundan_. Iffen ya hadn't come along there'd be plenty." Jayne's heart felt heavy as he watched his younger self absorb her words but refuse to flinch again. "Ya mean it ain't enough ta buy yer whisky? There'd be plenty o' that wouldn't there Ma?"

Vera smiled cruelly at her son. "Don't you worry boy – soon enough you'll be down that road too." His younger self shook his head. "I ain't never raisin' my fists to my kin, iffen that's what ya mean." Too late his younger self realised the attack he had opened himself up to as Carla's mouth twisted into a mocking sneer.

"Ain't that jus' why yer Daddy left, huh? Cuz ya got too big fer yer gorram britches, had ta show him didn't ya, couldn't just help the family." Blue eyes crystallized into ice as the pain of her words sent shards of agony through both Jayne's, though neither allowed it to show. Jayne thought about what exactly his father had wanted him to do to 'help' the family – big strapping boy, even at twelve, ain't no reason he couldn't learn the trade.

He suppressed a shudder at the thought of his Daddy's idea of 'helping'. The day Michael Cobb had run a greasy hand down Jayne's young cheek had been the day Jayne's heart began to freeze.

He'd become so furious he'd sent the man flying through the wall of their cabin, Michael Cobb standing with a sneer and walking out of their lives forever.

His younger self shook his head once. He couldn't keep having this fight, couldn't keep being told how much he hadn't been wanted, couldn't stay in the same house as this cruel, sad woman any longer. He raised blue eyes to Carla and his voice was very quiet when he spoke. "Merry Christmas Ma."

And with that he turned and walked down the street, far away from his mother, far away from the town, and he kept walking for days. His grandfather had found him after a week of searching, the boy's tracking and hunting experience allowing him to cover his tracks, but exhaustion and pain were strong sedatives.

When Craven Grey had found his grandson he'd taken him home, nursed him back to health, given him a roll of credits and told him to get off planet as quickly as he could. His grandmother had cried when he'd left, but hadn't asked him to stay.

Craven placed a hand on Jayne's arm and the world slipped away. He felt like he was floating through the black, suspended in air somehow. Scenes flashed briefly before his eyes, only remaining long enough for him to recognise the inhabitants.

A beautiful little girl with catlike eyes and golden skin was wearing a dress far too grown up, her coal black hair done up in ridiculously ornate curls. Inara couldn't have been more than five years old, but there she was, looking for all the world like a painted doll. The large reception hall was decked out in perfect lighting, rich garlands and wreaths on the walls, a stunning tree of ice blue in the centre of the room.

The adults surrounding her gave her polite nods, as a richly dressed woman who had to be her mother lead her around. Jayne couldn't help but notice the woman never touched Inara, never offered any support or comfort, just took the compliments of the other patrons with a satisfied smile. Inara trailed behind her mother, nodding polite greetings to the strange men who smiled at her. Finally her mother came to the front of the room, indicating that Inara should stand on the small stage. A slim man dressed in royal blue appeared, holding what looked suspiciously like a gavel.

Jayne looked to his grandfather, who sighed. "An auction. Her First Night was sold when she was five, though the debt obviously wasn't collected until she was of age. Fer Companions that means 17. This was her first Christmas outta the crèche."

Jayne swallowed the lump in his throat. Five. Inara's virginity had been sold to the highest bidder when she was five. The black eyes of the little girl showed some of the calm and poise she would one day possess, but mostly they just displayed fear.

The scene melted away, now showing a little boy with brown hair wearing a cowboy hat. The sun was bright on the ranch, and the little brown coat the boy was wearing was a good indicator of his identity.

An older man who was the spitting image of Mal strode towards his son, bending down on one knee. "Ya like yer coat?" Young Mal nodded, a bright grin on his little face. The older man grinned back. "You'll be a little Sergeant one day boyo, Merry Christmas." The boy hugged his father, making Jayne wonder how long the youth and light had surrounded Mal before his heart turned to stone.

Craven grimaced. "Three days. Raymond Reynolds was shot by Alliance soliders three days later. The war was only just brewing, but that was enough. Lara Reynolds never quite got over it."

Jayne watched as the scene once again disappeared.

A ship now, larger, without the warmth of Serenity. A solemn little girl with dark skin and calm eyes held her mother's hand as the older woman wielded a heavy gun that looked suspiciously like Zoe's Mare's Leg. The man the barrel was pointed at glared, dark eyes filled with hatred.

The woman showed no fear. "You stay the hell away from my girl, ya hear?" The man sneered, reminding Jayne a little too much of his own father. "Ain't jus' yers ya know, she's mine too." The woman shook her head, gun still pointed by a strong arm, the other hand wrapping young Zoe closed against her body.

"After what you tried ta do? No, she ain't yers, she's mine, mine alone." The man's expression grew ugly. "I ain't done nuthin'." Jayne noticed the swelling under Zoe's left eye, quickly took in the torn shirt on her young body. She didn't look any older than nine. The woman shook her head once more. "You lie. An' if ya come near her, or me again, I'll kill you where you stand."

The look in her dark flashing eyes, eyes that reminded Jayne so much of Zoe it hurt, brooked no argument. The man obviously disagreed, a nasty growl forming in his throat as he suddenly dove forward. The shot went out, cracking the near silence that had previously been descending over the ship, as Zoe's mother killed her father right in front of her.

Zoe's eyes never changed. That calm, stoic stare remained as she hugged her mother, watching the blood run out from the hole between her father's eyes.

The scene changed again.

A young boy with dark skin and a little afro raced with other boys down the streets of Persephone, his clothes ragged and his feet bare. Jayne looked curiously at Craven, who shrugged. "You weren't the only one born into nothin', an' ya ain't the only whore's get out there. Difference is the paths ya both ended up takin'."

Jayne looked back to where the young Book was grinning with his playmates. No wonder he felt so much in common with the man.

The scene disappeared, revealing three little boys with strawberry blonde hair, all crouched around a bug. One poked it with a stick while the others giggled. A woman moved into the scene, rolling her eyes. "Boys, you best get in here 'fore yer Daddy eats all the turkey on his own!"

Two of the boys immediately rose and bolted into the cabin, the last one lingering to look at the sky. It was thick with cloud and pollution, and the woman walked closer to her son. "Hoban, what're ya lookin' at?" The young Wash smiled at his mother.

"I'm imagining the stars." The woman smiled at him, her bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ya know what I'm imaginin'?" Little Hoban shook his head, eager little face grinning up at her. She laughed brightly as her hands snaked around his little stomach, picking him up and throwing him over her shoulder.

"I'm imagining how you'd make a better turkey than the one we've got!" Little Hoban kicked his feet, giggling and squirming. "Noooo!" The woman laughed harder. "Oh yes, you'll be delicious! Yum yum yum yum!" And Jayne watched as the door to the nearby cabin opened, an older man who must have been Wash's father grinning as his wife came in, crowing about the latest turkey she had caught. Jayne could see an older couple at the table, maybe Wash's grandparents, both smiling widely as the other two boys tried to steal bits of roasted potato.

The man grinned Wash's grin. "Fantastic, we'll eat you right up!" And the door closed, the sound of Wash's giggles warming something inside Jayne that he hadn't realised was cold. Craven smiled at his grandson. "Looks like fun, don't it?" Jayne scowled and said nothing.

The scene changed.

The room was opulent, decked out in rich tapestries and Persian rugs salvaged from earth-that-was. A massive pine tree stood in the centre of the room, decorated in red and gold, perfectly designed to match the rest of the room. Everything under it was immaculately wrapped, artfully placed, perfect.

This was how Christmas was meant to be, how Jayne had once imagined it. Beautiful and bright and filled with hope.

A small girl, no older than six, stood staring at the tree. She was wearing a pink tutu and ballet slippers, her long brown curls obviously just released from a tight bun, forming a wave over one small shoulder. She watched the twinkling lights, her large brown eyes looking confused, as if the sight before her was wrong somehow.

Jayne turned to Craven, who was looking at the room with an equal amount of awe. "Folks on the Core sure know how ta live, don't they?" Craven shushed him, pointing at the girl.

Jayne had to admit her pretty brown eyes did look awful nice in the light of those twinkling pinpricks of gold. Suddenly the light in those eyes dimmed as a man entered, tailed by a boy no older then twelve.

The man ignored the girl, looking instead to the black haired boy. "She's not allowed in the family room, you know how she gets." Simon pleaded with his father. "But it's Christmas eve! How can we have a tree if she's not even allowed to look at it?"

Gabriel Tam spoke as if River wasn't in the room, as if his words didn't make her little shoulders droop. "Don't be foolish Simon, this isn't a joke. Last year she took the whole thing apart and tried to put it back together, muttering some nonsense about family needing flaws. It took the servants hours to fix that clumsy mess! Genius indeed."

"But she just wanted to help decorate it herself, that's all!" Simon sighed, moving to where his younger sister stood as his father gave him a significant look, his eyes hard. "Two minutes and then she's out." Young River waited until her father was gone before turning to Simon. Jayne could see the bright tears in her eyes. "She won't be allowed to sit at the table this year, will she?"

Simon sighed, looking exhausted and miserable as he wrapped his arms around his little sister. "If you don't, I don't." He smiled down at her. "We'll have our own Christmas." River smiled but it didn't quite meet her eyes, eyes that looked far older than her six years. Her voice had the same haunting, lyrical quality of the Rive of today, a calm settling over the little face that hinted at young woman she would become. "One day Christmas will be filled with stars, and we'll be allowed to see them all. One day there will be family, but not here." Simon looked at her quizzically before leading her out of the room, his delicate little sister clutching her brother's hand as if it was a lifeline. And Jayne thought maybe it was.

Jayne turned to his grandfather, an unspoken question hanging in the air. "Too smart, too athletic, too strange, too special. Difficult, annoying, crazy. Sound familiar?" Jayne turned back to the overly perfect, somewhat sterile Christmas tree before him, seeing for the first time that this place of bright colour and design housed more cruelty than he'd originally thought.

"No wonder she likes Kaylee's version better."

Craven nodded solemnly as the scene began to change.

Kaylee, surrounded by a bevy of sisters, grinning as their mother and father passed out their brightly wrapped packages. The eldest looked about eight, Kaylee couldn't have been older than four. All five girls thanked their parents with cuddles and kisses before opening their presents. Inside were teddies, trinkets, little clothes for little girls. Cheaply made but bright with colour and immediately adored.

Not a single girl looked jealous or begrudging, simply happy, ready to play with their new toy, ready to share it with their siblings. As Marie and John Frye grinned at their daughters they directed their bubbly girls around the table, ready to start their small feast. The decorations were homemade, some clumsy and lumpy, but all were bright. Jayne thought about Marie spending hours making them with her daughters, or John carving the handmade table they now sat around. Somehow they looked just perfect for the scene in front of them.

Jayne looked at Craven. The older man chuckled. "How else d'ya think someone is that gorram bright an' cheerful all the time? Good family." Jayne nodded, ignoring the stab of juvenile jealousy at the sight of the happy Frye's.

The scene changed.

Jayne suddenly saw in front him the strong cabin his grandfather had built for his grandmother. His twelve year old self was resting on the couch as his grandparents spun in a slow circle in the centre of the room. Craven was humming under his breath, his little wife tucked under his chin, her long black hair, now streaked with grey, tumbling down her back. The warm light of the fire took away the lines on their faces, revealing the handsome young couple they had once been, the two still very much in love after all these years. The story of the escaped prisoner, the beautiful magistrate's daughter, their daring disappearance into the night, still captured Jayne's attention.

The song Craven hummed was old, but Jayne watched as his grandmother, Madison, mouthed the lyrics, the sound barely a whisper.

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And auld lang syne?_

Craven's humming was offkey, Madison didn't care. Madison occasionally stood on Craven's toe, Craven didn't care. Jayne saw his younger self cast his eyes downward, hiding the happy tears that had welled up. He had loved his grandparents, and they had loved him.

Jayne now turned to the older man still standing silently beside him, his blue eyes warm at the sight of his wife. Jayne thought about the day he'd been sent away by them.

"Why'd ya do that – why'd ya make me leave?" Craven gave his grandson an even stare. "Back then, even knowin' what she was, even knowin' how hurtful she could be, ya still would have helped her if she'd asked ya. She was too far gone – ya just needed to get out before she destroyed ya. It broke our hearts ta make ya leave, but it woulda hurt more iffen you'd stayed."

Jayne felt heavier, older than he had in a long time. The memories of his childhood, of the snippets of love his grandparents had given him, of the rare moments when Craven and Madison Grey had been able to give their grandson happiness before a jealous Carla came and stole him away, it was all too much. For the first time in 32 years Jayne mourned for himself, mourned for the young boy, mourned for the man he could have been.

Craven, or the ghost of Craven, since he was long dead now, shook his head, placing one hand on Jayne's broad shoulders. "Ain't no use harbourin' regrets boy, all ya can do is learn from 'em." Jayne glanced down at the ancient prison tattoo that adorned his grandfather's right hand. Sound advice.

The older man chuckled lowly, before leaning forward, pressing his forehead against Jayne's in a gesture he hadn't used since Jayne was very young. His breath smelt of the cigars he used to smoke, the ones Jayne now bought exclusively in order to feel a brief moment of peace. "Them moments we gave ya, the ones yer thinkin' on now, you best remember 'em. It's the best we could give ya, an' ya sure as hell deserved more, but ya were loved, don't ever doubt that."

Jayne began to shake as he felt the desert air begin to pick up, as his world began to melt away. His grandfather stepped back, slowly fading as the winds whipped sand all around, Jayne's vision beginning to cloud as he struggled against the pull.

He tried to fight it – he wanted to stay here, in the last source warmth he remembered, but soon the scene disappeared, and he was left in darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

He was in the dining room, watching Inara and Book cooking. Neither said a word, simply moving comfortably around one another, lifting their heads and smiling as Zoe entered the room. The first mate angled her body, swollen with eight and a half months of baby, into a chair. Wash stepped in seconds later, immediately descending on his wife's stomach, caressing it and talking to it about everything that would happen tomorrow in that silly voice he used.

Mal entered, giving Inara a kiss on the cheek, abandoning all pretence of hiding their relationship. The ex-Companion smiled warmly, a blush barely visible on her usually composed face. Kaylee then entered, a wide grin lighting up her eyes, the little string she used in lieu of a wedding band visible on her finger. They hadn't been able to afford them yet, but she didn't care. As long as she was Simon's, and he was hers, she just didn't care. She ran an affectionate hand over Zoe's belly absently, the simple gesture making Jayne pause.

The scene was so…familiar. Nothing particularly interesting had happened, and yet he felt like his world had been rocked. The easy, comfortable way they all interacted, it shook him to his core.

Jayne felt the air move next to him, almost jumping when Simon appeared. He glared at the younger man. "What the hell are ya doin' in my dream?" Simon shrugged. "You needed another guide, one who could show you the present. Or maybe you just have a crush on me."

Jayne fought the urge to punch the smirking doctor in the arm, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. "What the hell is all this?" Simon smiled as Kaylee went into the kitchen to help Inara and Book. "This is the aftershock of Miranda. A single crystalizing event, one that has taken our mismatched crew and turned it into something else, something…"

He trailed off, allowing Jayne to supply the word. "Shiny." Simon nodded. "Most of us didn't realize how much we had to lose until we nearly lost it all. That kind of thing tends to make people react. Most people at least."

Jayne looked briefly ashamed. He'd almost reacted, it had been so close. When those doors had opened, when the last missing member of their crew had stood there and declared herself a deadly weapon willing to fight tooth and nail for her family, he'd fought the urge to fall at her feet.

But he hadn't. He had stayed silent, fighting the instinctive urge to run to her, to beg her to let him be a part of her life, to kiss her until neither of them could breath. And when they'd all recuperated in hospital he had sent barb after barb in her direction, refusing to stay in bed in case she came by, tearing away at her newfound self-control with every opportunity he had. And he'd missed out.

He could see that now. See it in the comfortable, intimate interactions between the rest of the crew. In the strange pairings that he was now watching. Zoe, who had seen her father killed in front of her, by her own mother, had recognised the act of love. And hadn't run when she'd found a man who made her laugh, who praised and adored her strength, who took nothing and gave everything. Wash, from his happy home, and held onto those memories, brightening each day with humour and passion, constantly delighted with every tiny kick, every movement his child made inside his wife's stomach.

Inara, auctioned away at only five, had refused to allow the training to completely shut her off from other people, to make her separate. He'd bet his last credit that other women in that situation had clung to that veil of composure as a defence for the rest of their lives, refusing to come out, refusing to see themselves as anything other than healers and Companions, as something other. But Inara? Jayne remembered her taut and ready, her bow in hand, fighting for her family. And now she had Mal, the man who obviously drove her insane.

It took him a moment to figure out what they gave each other. Fire, passion, warmth. The cold composure she had hidden behind, the desolate bleakness that had covered Mal for so long, none of that mattered anymore. Not when they each had a partner so ready to fight for them, with them, beside them every day.

Book was humming happily as he placed a plate of roasted vegetables in front of Zoe. The first mate hadn't asked, and Book hadn't offered, but ever since finding out Zoe was pregnant the preacher had taken great joy in helping in any way he could. Jayne thought about the man's humble upbringing, about the dark parts of his past that were still hidden, and couldn't help but recognise the look in his eyes.

His grandfather had the same look.

Then there was Kaylee, their bright, shining beacon even when the darkness descended. Nobody could fight for light like Kaylee, because nobody in the world would ever believe the light _must_ always be there, no matter how dark it seemed. Her warmth, her guileless joy and love that she shared so freely, that she poured into making this holiday special…he had finally seen where she got that from. And he felt relieved that someone like Kaylee existed.

Simon smiled as if he'd heard that last thought. "You're starting to see, come on, there's more."

The scene in the galley suddenly changed. River stood over the blackened lump that was meant to be a Christmas cake or some sort. The sad, mangled thing had little stalks of asparagus peeking out of it. Book stood next to her, one hand covering the lower half of his face as he surveyed the mess on the table. River turned to him and raised one eyebrow.

"Go ahead preacherman, before your stomach bursts." Giggles burbled up in Book's throat, quickly turning into full blown laughter, which River soon began to replicate. Both were still laughing when Mal entered. "An' just what the hell is that god awful smell?"

River pointed to the mess on the table. "True genius – care for a slice a 'gifted' cake Captain?" Mal began to laugh so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks, gasping for breath as he spoke. "You…you made that? All them smarts and that's what happens when you cook?"

There was no malice to his words, just amusement, warm and rich. Jayne found it strange to hear River make jokes that people actually understood, and tried not to wonder when that had happened. Simon piped up next to him. "She stopped laughing when you told her it wasn't a surprise that even her cake was crazy."

Jayne suddenly felt the laughter die in his throat, which now seemed to close at the thought of his malicious words. Simon nodded at him as the scene melted again.

He was in the cargo bay. River was standing in the centre of the room, wearing that strange cobwebby dress that moulded to her slim form far too well. She was simply standing en pointe, perfectly balanced, her hands a delicate circle above her head. She watched the lights in the cargo bay, beginning to slowly turn, as if her eyes were following every string of twinkling pinpricks one by one. She looked like one of those ballerinas in a music box.

Jayne watched her eyes reflect the glow of the lights around her. When he'd seen her as a child, staring at that immaculate display, those eyes had been filled with confusion and something else. Loneliness. Now, as she surveyed the homemade baubles, the clumsily decorated tree, the strands of lights throughout the cargo bay, her eyes were filled with calm and peace. They glittered with joy, they radiated happiness. It was something pretty special to see.

Simon, or whoever this was, smirked at Jayne. "You're staring." Jayne rolled his eyes and fought yet another urge to punch the younger man, but again Simon didn't notice, or didn't care, too busy taking in the sight of River watching the tree. He smiled softly. "She always loved the lights – she said they were stars, waiting to take us away."

She started dancing, Zoe and Inara clapping in the corner, and Jayne saw himself descend the stairs, his lip curling into a silent snarl at the sight of the girl. River finished another twirl before she stopped, and Jayne noticed for the first time the happy, welcoming smile that was on her face. The lights gave her pale, porcelain skin a strangely ethereal glow, her eyes having lit up even more brightly when his other self had entered. Jayne wondered when that had started happening, wondered when he had started deserving those bright eyes turned on him.

She gave the other Jayne a sweet, shy smile, extending one hand as if to ask him to dance. Her voice was soft and a little nervous, but almost playful.

"For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch;

And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss."

His other self sneered at the offered hand, raising an eyebrow. "Quit talkin' that _go se_, crazy, makes ya sound even more moonbrained then ya are." And with that he turned quickly and left.

They watched as she stopped turning and all the air seemed to deflate – she crumbled, like a piece of fluttering silk tossed aside, falling into a little ball beside the tree. Those big brown eyes filled with tears as she fell, the fairy lights illuminating the glistening trail along her cheeks.

Jayne had never wanted to punch himself before, but he did now. It was an odd feeling.

Inara rushed forward, sitting on the floor of the cargo bay with no regard for her beautiful silk dress. "_Mei mei_, please, tell me what's wrong." River spoke softly, as if the simple action of talking was too hard for her battered heart.

"All the lights are in place, the stockings are hung by the chimney with care…all but one." Jayne shivered at the haunted lilt to her voice; having the uncomfortable feeling he was the cause of her words. Those brown eyes were looking in his direction but he knew she couldn't see him. It didn't make him feel any better.

Inara held her closer, seeming to understand. She looked to where Zoe sat in the corner, ignoring her cooling tea and staying silent. "Some hearts grow cold River, no matter how much warmth we try to bestow. You can't keep trying, not when it is hurting you so much." River shook her head, the movement sending her curls cascading over her shoulders. "Can't give up, won't. Must believe. Kaylee says Christmas spirit is most important thing. Have to believe."

Even as she said the words Jayne could see her shoulders slump just as they had before, when her father had spoken his cruel words all those years ago. The last two words were said in a voice that held such sad, miserable longing that Jayne felt an odd tug in his heart at the sound. The idea that he had caused such misery to cross her pretty face was almost too much to bear.

Jayne could see tears form in Inara's dark eyes, could see the ex-Companion losing her composure. Why was she so affected by what River had said? Simon was there to provide the answer. "You saw River's past, Inara knows it too. She knows about the loneliness, the isolation that River went through. So it breaks her heart to see her unhappy."

Jayne nodded, understanding. Simon placed one hand on his shoulder as the mercenary felt the heavy guilt settle over his shoulders. All that pain she'd suffered before the Academy, all that had come after, he felt like the biggest monster in the 'verse to add to that long line of misery. And he couldn't for the life of him understand why something so clean and beautiful would feel a second of sadness for him.

Simon's voice was low. "Easy now, you're not done yet."

And with that the world melted away once more.

* * *

**A/N:** River quotes William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet


	5. Chapter 5

Jayne blinked, unsure of where they were. He looked over his shoulder for Simon but saw no one, instead turning his eyes to the front. A dark bar, scantily clad women littering the room, leaning over drunken men and revealing generous smiles and even more generous cleavage. Jayne felt the sting of sweat and desperation in the air, mingling into a thick fog with the cheap perfume and spilled alcohol. There was no warmth. The women's eyes were dead, flat, like his mother's had been. There was a decrepit Christmas tree in the corner, looking pathetically forlorn in the dim light of the brothel, more a nod to the day then anything else. The men shouted raucously, laughing loudly as they demanded more booze, more women, but Jayne saw the sadness in some of them, recognised the longing for something richer, something cleaner, something more than love that was paid for with credits slick with sweat and memories.

Jayne felt a feather light touch on his shoulder. River, or something that looked like River, stood beside him. Whilst his grandfather and Simon had both looked real, there was little possibility of mistaking this translucent, fragile creature as anything more than a ghost. Her hair floated around her head, her white dress fluttering as if a breeze was ruffling it.

She didn't say anything, simply pointed to a corner. There sat a man. His blue eyes were flat as he stared into the whisky glass in front of him. There was a half empty bottle on the table, and the calloused hands were wrapped around it like a lifeline. There was no expression, no life in the face that he finally recognised as his own. It was blank, dead as the desert where he'd grown up.

A woman approached the table. She had brown eyes and brown hair, a slim build, but her eyes were dead as his were, her skin pasty, and the leanness of her frame more from malnourishment then balletic structure. There was no resemblance to the ghost of a girl who stood silently beside him, but apparently there was enough for the man in the corner. He barely glanced at her before he rose, following her out of the room.

Every step looked like it had been weighed down with cement, as if he was moving through molasses. And Jayne saw the reason for the blankness in his eyes. Whisky and table, girl and bed, it didn't matter. There was no life in that grizzled body, only an empty husk where a man had once lived.

He turned to the ghost beside him. "That's me?" The ghost nodded solemnly, River's brown eyes looking hollow without the girl's vibrant soul to light them. He felt a sudden wave of disgust. For this bar, these patrons, these women, that lost, lonely man.

The ghost raised a slim finger, pressing it lightly to his forehead. Immediately he was taken somewhere else.

A hill, dark and barren, as if nothing dared to grow on this ground that felt slick with loss. He had no idea what planet they were on. He stood at the marker, wishing the ghost beside him would say something. Only the wind whispered around him. These weren't regular grave markers – these had been designed for families to be buried together.

Kaylee and Simon were dancing in a slow circle, two small children giggling around them.

The grave marker noted their death five years from the present. December 25th, 2522. Cause of death: Gunfire.

The next marker showed Mal and Inara, standing solemnly beside one another, although occasionally a secret smile would grace their faces, causing the other one to smile and breaking their focus. The cause of their smiles was the little boy pulling silly faces between them.

Same date of death, same cause.

Next was Zoe and Wash, a grinning boy and a younger child wrestling over a plastic dinosaur next to them.

Same date of death, same cause.

Finally Book's grave marker stood, the preacher smiling, the image recording showing him playing with a bevvy of Serenity's children. His eyes were warm and proud.

Same date of death, same cause.

He turned to the ghost, feeling the tears prick his eyes. "All on the same day? What happened?" The ghost shrugged as the scene swirled away from them.

They were in a sterile room. A single chair was positioned in the centre, surrounded by a gaggle of scientists, along with more machines then Jayne could count. It was the body on that chair that froze him.

River's figure lay in the chair, still and silent, the blue tint to her skin filling his veins with ice. A scientist was writing in the chart beside him.

Subject: River Tam, recaptured December 25th, 2522. Deceased December 25th, 2532. Cause of death: Suicide. Swallowed her tongue.

Ten years.

They had recaptured her, destroyed the crew in the process, and had been experimenting on her for ten years. Jayne walked through the unseeing scientists until he was standing beside the prone form of the Reader. He reached out a hand to stroke the shorn hair where once there had been long, chocolate curls. Her skin was riddled with needle marks and bruises, long healed scars and fresh wounds along the sides of her scalp where they had cut again and again.

She had spent ten years being tortured, ten years without love, before she had finally given up. A scientist near him spoke to another man. "You hear what she was saying only yesterday?" The other man rolled his eyes. "Still going on about him, still saying her mercenary would come for her. Guess she stopped believing it. Shame to lose such a valuable subject."

The callous words tore at Jayne's heart. She'd been tortured for ten years, and where had he been? He turned to the ghost.

"Where was I? Where was I when they caught her? Why didn't I die with the rest o' the crew? Why was I in some bar while she was suffering? WHERE THE HELL WAS I?"

He was shouting now, pain and fear lacing his voice as he thought about the fate of his crew, of his own failure. Those haunting, soulless eyes just stared at him, and he knew. He knew he'd abandoned the boat before any of this happened, knew he'd tossed aside the only real family he had found since he had left his grandparents all those years ago.

It was too much. Too much to think of his crew, of their children, all destroyed in a desperate battle to save the girl. Too much to think of her as a blank eyed test subject, destroyed again and again, clinging to the hope of him saving her until one day even that wasn't enough. Too much to think of his own cold heart costing these people their lives, too much to think of himself becoming the nothingness that he had seen in the bar.

He turned to the only being in the room that could see him, hear him. "How do I stop this? TELL ME! HOW CAN I STOP THIS? NO MORE!" The defiance left him as his voice became a whisper his throat beginning to clog at the sight of that fragile corpse on the table. He did something he never thought he would do – he begged. "Please…please, no more."

The ghost offered him nothing as he fell to the floor, the pain and loss tearing at his heart, agony ripping through him as the tears came, hot and fast. Those tiny little people that he'd never gotten to know, the children his crewmates had once been, the pain he had caused River, it was all too much.

As the world began to fade to black all he could see were those haunted brown eyes, and the still, pale form on the table.


	6. Chapter 6

Jayne woke to pitch black. He struggled to focus his eyes, flipping on the light closest to him. He was in his bunk, on the ship.

A dream…it had been a dream!

He touched one hand to his face, feeling the drying remnants of the tears he'd shed for his lost family.

His smile died before it had formed. No, not just a dream. A warning.

His eyes narrowed as he made a decision, checking the time on his chrono projector. Only 0300 ship time, too early for anybody else to be awake.

He had time, but he had to move fast.


	7. Chapter 7

Kaylee woke with a bright smile on her face, turning to shake her husband out of dream land. She beamed at him. "It's Christmas!" Simon grinned sleepily, kissing her cheek. "Merry Christmas _bao bei_."

Kaylee smiled and tugged him out of bed, loving the way him pyjama bottoms clung to his slim frame. She was wearing the top, smiling at him in that special way that always melted his heart and Simon was leaning in for another kiss when he noticed something. Little bits of brightly wrapped candy were leading out of their bedroom. He raised an eyebrow at Kaylee, who shrugged, as clueless as Simon.

They stepped out of their room in time to notice Book looking curiously at the little trail of candies, also coming from his room and joining the path. None of them spoke as they began to follow the trail, passing through the galley and walking by the crew bunks. Mal and Inara, along with Zoe and Wash, were also following the trail, which lead from their bunks as well.

When they arrived at the cargo bay every single one of them stopped.

Down below, under their little tree, were several of the large crates that had been empty and stored at the back of the bay. Now they rested under the tree, complete with names scrawled messily across them.

The crew ran down into the bay, where Jayne was smoking a cigar and leaning against a far wall. Mal looked at him quizzically but the mercenary just shrugged indifferently. Wash and Zoe got the theirs first, the pilot's eyes gleaming with the excitement of a little boy as he tore open the crate, his amused wife standing back.

The sides of the crate immediately fell away, revealing their contents.

Someone had several lengths of the spare wood and metal they kept around the ship, and had welded and shaped it into a crib. The dark wood had been polished until it gleamed, contrasting with the dark shining metal. It was strangely beautiful, and Kaylee knew only one person on the boat who could weld with such proficiency.

"Jayne, did ya do this?" Zoe turned sharp eyes to Jayne, and the mercenary was briefly worried that she hated it. But then he saw a single tear escape the corner of her left eye. His face fell. "Sorry Zo', it's jus' ya were sayin' ya ain't got one yet an'…" He trailed off as she walked up to him.

Her voice was stern and calm. "Give me your hand Jayne." The merc tried to not shiver at the clear order in her tone, but saw Wash smiling from the corner. Zoe gave him a wry smirk as she took his hand.

"There's something you ain't felt yet." And she placed his hand over her swollen stomach. The tiniest tap was felt, followed by a stronger one against his hand, and he felt his eyes widen. It had kicked! The baby had kicked just for him!

Zoe smiled indulgently. "Thank you Jayne, from all three of us, thank you." Jayne nodded, refusing to say anything since he was unsure if his voice would work.

Mal stepped forward, grinning as he searched for his crate. His face dropped when it was far smaller than the one Zoe and Wash had received, but his eyebrow quirked when he saw not one, but two names on it.

Mal and 'Nara.

He turned to Jayne, who shrugged again. Inara stepped forward to help him open it. Inside was a heavy vest. Mal looked at Jayne questioningly. Jayne sighed. "It's bullet proof – couple o' sheets o' metal beaten an' compressed inside the seams. Ain't no good fer point blank, but it'll hold up fer anything smaller than Vera at a distance." Mal grinned at the hidden joke. "You sayin' I might get shot?"

Something strange clouded in Jayne's eyes. His reply was low and mumbled, only Book heard it. "Not on my watch." The preacher gave Jayne a strange look as Inara took out the other gift in the box. It was a slim stiletto in a hand crafted leather sheath. She stared for a moment before removing the blade from its home, turning it in the light. The inscription was simple.

_Pari Passu_

Inara's eyes filled with tears. Equal footsteps. Equal to every person here, on equal footing with every member of this crew. A member of this family, and a valued one at that. Moving together, hand-in-hand, to whatever the future held.

She looked up to where Jayne was staring at his shoes. She walked to where he was standing, wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him a full hug. Jayne stiffened, then relaxed. Of all the things Inara could have done, she had hugged him. Something simple and friendly, with no artifice or wiles, filled with warmth. It made him smile.

Kaylee was smiling too and her eyes were also wet with tears as she strode to where a present lay for her and Simon. It was the smallest box by far, fitting in the palm of her hand, and Simon couldn't hide his curiosity as she began to open it. Lying inside the box were two metal bands. One was slimmer, obviously designed for a woman. Jayne had taken several unused copper wires and welded them into a single, brightly polished band, the individual strands woven together to create something incredible. Kaylee had a strange feeling that it had taken exactly nine of those strands to create this ring. The other was obviously surgical steel, silver and gleaming in the light, thicker than its mate, designed for a man.

Kaylee immediately burst into tears, while Simon just stared at Jayne. The doctor stepped forward to where the mercenary was looking more uncomfortable than he'd ever seen him. Simon couldn't help the shock on his face.

"Jayne…this is…thank you." Jayne shrugged. "Seein' as I didn't get ya nuthin' fer the weddin', figured this'd be alright fer now." Simon struggled to find the words to express himself, and finally settled on something that would mean more to the physical Jayne. He reached out his hand. The mercenary looked at him warily for a moment before taking it, shaking it firmly.

Simon grinned. "Thank you." He walked back to where Kaylee was still sobbing happily, taking her ring from the box and slipping it over her finger. When she did the same to him the rest of the crew began to clap and whistle.

Book looked to where Jayne stood. "You've done well, son." Jayne grinned. "Still one under there fer you preacher." Book looked briefly surprised before he walked over to the tree. His box was medium sized, and when he opened it he couldn't help the grin that crossed his face.

It was a capture encased in a modified vid frame. There was a little port for placing in the vid recorder for any photo he wanted. The current one was a copy of Zoe's ultrasound. He looked to Jayne, still grinning, the mercenary matching his expression. "Figured yer gonna need it, Grandpa."

As the shocked crew tried to recover from their mercenary's newfound Christmas spirit Jayne slipped away. He stood outside River's door, breathing heavily. He didn't know why she hadn't come into the cargo bay, sure she would have felt all the excitement, but he didn't mind too much. Better to do this one in private anyway.

He knocked on the door, trying to keep calm. When a small voice bid him enter he stepped inside. River looked small and forlorn on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin. She wasn't wearing her pretty Christmas outfit anymore, and her eyes had dark rings underneath them, as if she'd spent the night crying.

He looked at her, trying to figure out what to say. "Rough night?" She nodded. "Bad dreams." He was still for a moment before reaching into his back pocket, drawing out her gift. Her eyes widened. He'd taken more spare metal and welded it into the shape of a rose. The stem was darkly polished grey, but the bud itself had been lacquered with red polish (that he was not going to admit he stole from 'Nara's shuttle). The dark red had been offset by black tips. She took it with a trembling hand, staring at it.

Figuring she must have deliberately closed off her inner barriers to avoid hearing the rest of the crew while she dealt with her nightmares he decided direct was probably the best approach. He reached out a hand for hers.

"I ain't got no fancy poems or nuthin', but there's somethin' I wanna show ya." He felt relieved when she finally placed a small, pale hand in his own large, calloused one, allowing him to help her stand. Her sleep shirt came almost past her knees, and she looked very small. But her chocolate hair was tousled, her long dark lashes standing out against her porcelain skin, and those huge brown eyes now bright with a spark of curiosity.

She had never looked so beautiful.

He gave her a stern look. "No peeking." When she nodded demurely he felt a lazy grin spread over his face. He led her out of her room and over the catwalk, waiting for the crew to notice their presence. He didn't say a word as he led her down the stairs, still holding her slim hand in his. The rest of the crew finally noticed that the cargo bay floor had been cleared, a thin black mat now resting on most of the floor.

He led her to the far corner where a barre had been welded to the wall, set at just the right height for any ballerinas on the ship. And when River bent down closely Jayne knew what she was looking at. Someone had carved a long strand of roses along the edge of the metal barre. And Jayne would never, _ever_ admit to being that person. Of course, since River was a Reader, he reckoned he didn't have to.

She ran a hand over the metal of the barre before she moved into the centre of the bay, turning a full circle before staring at him with wide eyes. The rose he'd given her was still clutched tightly to her side. He felt his face go red as he looked at his feet, his voice low and gravelly. "They don't smell sweet or nuthin', but thought maybe ya'd like somethin' purdy ta look at."

The rest of the crew was silent as River's face started to change. It was slow at first, before building in intensity. The smile bloomed across her, lighting up her eyes and transforming her from a pretty girl into a beautiful young woman. She walked slowly across the room until she was standing right in front of Jayne.

She raised herself up on her tiptoes, silent and still, before pressing the softest, most gentle kiss on his lips. When she moved back down there was a good six inches between them, but Jayne had an easy remedy for that. He simply picked her up, wrapping his arms around her ribs and kissing her passionately.

It took the rest of the crew a moment to recover, but when they did every person there saw the scene from different eyes.

Kaylee saw her sister-in-law happy, joyful, filled with love, held by someone who seemed to love her back.

Zoe saw a man holding a girl like she was everything.

Mal saw his little albatross being assaulted by his merc…and then saw the way his merc smiled at his albatross.

Wash saw Jayne realise why the pilot was so happy, why the doctor felt so lucky, why the Captain couldn't believe his good fortune.

Inara saw a young woman find out what love truly felt like, and saw a cold mercenary experience the first blush of warmth he'd had in years.

Simon saw his sister, his broken, damaged sister, wrapped up in the arms of someone who was loving her, accepting her, just the way she was. And he saw both of them suddenly become whole.

Book saw a couple take their first steps, and couldn't help them warmth in his chest at the sight. It helped that he remembered that River was 18, otherwise Special Hell talks might be in order.

And when Jayne finally pulled back and looked into those dark, whisky brown eyes, he saw his past, present, and future.

* * *

**A/N:** Pari Passu roughly translates to Equal Footing. Inara always seems to hold herself above everybody, but it is clear she doesn't believe that at all. Thought it was fitting...


	8. Chapter 8

Jayne proposed to River six days later, at midnight, on New Years Eve. While the rest of the crew still celebrated in the galley the two of them slipped down to the cargo bay, dancing in a slow, lazy circle in the centre of the room. He hummed, she sang.

They married two weeks after that, his grandmother Maddie the only family he had present. She had cried harder then he'd ever seen her cry, and the tears were of happiness.

A week later Zoe gave birth to Craven Rex Washburne. She'd let Jayne pick the name as a thank you for the crib.

Three months later Kaylee announced that she was pregnant.

Two months after that Mal and Inara got married in the middle of a fight, and never looked back.

Seven months later Kaylee gave birth to Raleigh Tam and James Tam. Zoe bequeathed her the crib, now dubbed 'Serenity's Basket'. Luckily it was big enough for two.

Three months later Inara and Zoe both announced they were pregnant. Exactly five seconds later Mal and Wash both fainted.

Nine months later Corbin Washburne and Dominic 'Dom' Reynolds were born. Book noticed there was now only one little girl on the boat.

After that came Kato Tam. Simon had almost fainted until Kaylee punched his arm.

Six months later River gave Jayne his daughter, Adora.

A year later she gave him Celeste.

A year later she gave him Evangeline. Mal then forbade Jayne to have sex with his wife until he worked out birth control. Jayne then pointed out that Inara had been vomiting that morning. River had hummed happily the whole time.

On December 20th, 2522, Jayne made Mal stock up on ammunition and leave the children with Mal's mother on Shadow. Mal had actually complied.

On December 25th, 2522, the crew of Serenity destroyed the Alliance facility that held the new Academy. Not a single member was injured, not even a scratch. Zoe later reflected that Jayne had seemed hell bent on destruction that day, and not a single Alliance solider had survived.

On December 31st, 2522, Jayne danced with his tiny wife in the cargo bay as their ship floated through the black. High above them three little girls watched their mother and father from the catwalk.

He hummed, she sang.

The End

* * *

**A/N: **I know it's after Christmas, but I just felt like writing some more holiday cheer. The Shakespeare lines are from Romeo and Juliet, the song is Auld Lang Syne. Until next time Browncoats!

The Frisky Firelily


End file.
